Butterfly wings
by FRC Coazze
Summary: Little butterfly wings. A colourful creature resting on a tear. What memories can its bright colours wake up in a broken man? Two kids. Two friends seated under a tree in the grounds of Hogwarts, and she's telling him a story... an old legend of a white butterfly.


_Hi there!_

_I'm late with the new chapter of the Ballad, hope you don't want to kill me or to extort me the chapter by torture right now. But if it is so, before you proceed with your criminal intents (:D), please take a look to this one-shot. It is not new, it was written for a contest months ago, but I was the only entrant and I don't have news about this contest so, I think I can publish the story. _

_So, please, enjoy this story and forget the Ballad for some day, would you? XD _

* * *

**Butterfly wings**

Severus leaned wearily to the rough trunk of the tree. That tree. That tree that had always been there, motionless, impassive, quiet. There, in that forgotten playground. How long had that place not known the merry laughter of a child? How long had the grass not perceived the weight of the stroke of a playful little boy? Maybe laughing, loud. With that musical voice not yet rippled by the smoke and the rough of age and concern. Maybe while playing with a friend, simple and innocent on their game, chasing each other laughing. No screams. No pain. Only laughter. Sweet laughter.

He slowly leaned his head back, resting it on the old tree's solid chest, perhaps hoping to hear the beating of its heart through the thick armour of wood. He closed his eyes. He wondered if someone could hear his own heartbeat. He wondered if someone could realize that there was a heart under that armour of hate and bitterness that surrounded him. He wondered.

The tree to which he huddled, crouching in its shadow as a child in search of affection... that tree had indeed a heart. He could feel the beat: slow, calm, indifferent. He could feel its breath, brushing against his face like a sweet caress of foam. He could feel the life inside that wood. It was not a barrier: it was a support, a refuge. It was life. And could that tree feel the life in the boy sat at its feet as a black spot in its own shadow? Could it? Still had he a heart beneath those icy layers that he had built around him like a thunderstruck barrier?

Once there was. That heart. Once there was the one who could hear the beating. There was the one who had accepted its wrong, lame pace. Once there was. But not anymore. She had left him... yes, because it was a girl, a girl whose heart spread around a perfect melody. She was gone, and now his spirit was like that playground: abandoned, silent, miserable. It contained no more laughter, but the raucous, ill chirping of crickets, fat and greedy as pustules on the dry stems of grass. Many yellow nails that rose in the air and even the sky drew away, fearful of those tips. It was an inferno without hope, a deserted and inhospitable land. That was his spirit. And his heart was dead down there, crushed by hardships and pain. No, no one would be able to hear the heartbeat now. No one.

He remembered. He remembered the first time he had seen her, right there, in that playground. She was swaying on the swing like a flower fairy - a small, innocent fairy - and her clear laughter dripping from her lips... he wanted to feel the taste of that laughter, to drink that happiness like ragweed. He had looked at her for long, spying from behind a bush, too shy and insecure to come forward. She was like a splash of cool water, a gust of wind who could bring him away from sadness, to wash him from his being different. Perhaps that was why she was a sparkling light in his darkness, because she was like him. She was different. And that made them equals.

Yet, if he thought about it, what right he might have to stand alongside such a creature?

A wry smile rose on his lips, a mocking grin that spoke only for himself. Really, what was he? What rights did he have? He, grotesque and misshapen creature of the night. An evil and ugly goblin that wandered in the world knowing only the pity and disgust of the people. A naive child who, for a moment, had thought he could be accepted; that that beautiful girl would have addressed him one of those genuine, sincere smiles she donated to everyone around her.

What cruel liars dreams were!

Smoke creatures who deceived mortals, making them believe that their hopes will one day become real. And a child believes. A child does not know that the life's verb is 'to take away' and not 'to give'. A child believes in dreams. Especially when these are the only thing he owns, the only windows on an imaginary world where he can find happiness.

Why that tear? Why was that damned tear tickling his skin? He felt his eyes burning, maybe they were the same flames in the hair of his Lily to touch his black? No. Never. She would never touched someone like him. Never. She could not soil her purity with someone like him. But those tears were trembling on his eyelashes as many small ice knights, ready to let themselves slide down his pale cheeks, the only drops of his soul still uncorrupted.

Severus bent his knees bringing them closer to the chest in a childish gesture, a naive searching for some warmth in his own body that no longer contained it. Lost. That warmth of life that he had never really had, but which he had enjoyed, living on reflected light from the blazing sun that was his Lily. But now the sun was gone, and he was dead. He felt the chill of death within him, a corpse with a will of its own. And those tears were cold too.

One, just one of those silver gems fell, streaming down his face. It fell like a drop of cool rain, dying on the black fabric of his trousers, disintegrating on his knee with the force of a sigh. He felt the dampness on his skin, permeating through the material, but he did not care. He squeezed his eyes in a vain attempt to keep back those drops of white blood that flowed from his black irises. He hated crying. He would not cry. It was a weakness. And he was not weak, he did not wear his heart on his lapel, no more: he had learned his lesson. Pain is the best teacher you could possibly want.

A slight tickle on his knees, where the tear had fallen, like a light breath, just a slight caress. He opened his eyes, bathed in mist of tears, and his black irises were discovered in looking at the curious little creature that was lying right there, right there on his knee. A butterfly. A beautiful butterfly coloured like the sun. She was quiet there, swaying slightly the splendid wings in the still air, tasting the bitter salt that the small tear had left behind.

Severus looked at her curiously, blinking in surprise. She was really slight ,that small butterfly, fragile, ephemeral... yet so beautiful, so colourful. But maybe that was the sense of beauty? The ephemeral nature? So, that was why his Lily was gone: she was pretty, perfect and delicate like a butterfly.

Unsure, he raised a hand. One time he would have chased away the impudent little creature, but now... now he just wanted to caress her. He held out his finger toward the butterfly, but then stopped afraid to see her flee, like others had fled in his life. But the little butterfly did not move, she seemed to spy on him curious from under those long black antennae, the colourful wings that rose and fell delicate, beating his breath.

He withdrew his hand, staring at the butterfly in silence. The tears had stopped falling. Funny how something so small could be so much comforting. He found himself happy to have her there, leaning on his knee as if it not made any difference for her to touch the body of a man like him.

He looked at the little butterfly, tracing the beautiful fire coloured wings, the thousand blue-green eyes that decorated the edge of her wings as many small drops of water on the mantle of the sun. Those black lines and spots that seemed to steal the colour from his own eyes to squirt it on the soft velvet of the wings. She was beautiful. She was beautiful and simple. He swallowed. Lily liked the butterflies. She had always been so excited by their colours and their perfect simplicity; how they gently caress the flowers mingling their colours with those of the petals. He, for his part, had always been indifferent to those ephemeral creatures: for him, they were gray and empty as all the rest. But now he saw the small, slender creature in a different light, now he could see the colours, he could see the beautiful golden flecks that plied her vermilion wings. And those eyes. Those green eyes that seemed to smile.

_"Hey Sev!"_

He closed his eyes suddenly, as if caught by a sudden, searing pain. The cursed sword of memories had pierced his chest in search of his heart, forged by that voice. That voice that was like hot lead for his soul, a voice that only lived longer in his memories.

_"Sev!"_

It was the voice of a girl. It was the voice of that girl he had watched from behind a bush. That little girl who had become his friend, after all. His only friend.

He closed his eyes, suddenly sucked into the vortex of memories, seized and taken to another place, to another time by the crystalline voice.

He was at Hogwarts, during his third year. He sat in the shade of a tree, enjoying the cool, on the shore of the Black Lake. The green of spring surrounded him, but he stood there in the shadow, escaping the spring rays like a grim phantom. He read. As always. No one would ever come close to the strange and taciturn boy who was the outcast of the school. Nobody, except the red-haired girl who was rushing towards him, wearing the uniform with the Gryffindor colours and the hair that seemed to capture the rays of the sun.

"Hey Sev!" She called again, waving her arms to attract his attention, to no avail because he had already seen her. How could he not see her? She was always so beautiful, cheerful. And he watched her as the girl struggled up the small hill where grew the tree under which he sat.

"Sev ..." She said gasping when she finally reached him. She placed her hands on her knees bowing her back as she tried to catch her breath. Some locks of hair had fallen over her light face touching her sincere smile, the smile that was addressed to him.

"What are you doing there in the shadow? The sun is shining." The Lily said straightening her back, while he continued to watch her in silence, the book dropped on his knees.

"I don't like the sun." Severus said, with a shrug.

Lily laughed. That crystalline laughter that knew how to penetrate deep into his heart, like a sweet lullaby that cradled him in its notes making him forget the anger, the pain... the stupid jokes of Potter and company.

"You're white as a sheet. A little sun would not kill you!" Lily said finally turning his laugh into a broad smile.

Severus gave her a tight smile, then he looked away from her to place his eyes back on the pages in front of him.

"I've searched the whole castle for you, you know?" Lily said with a sigh as she sat beside him in the shade, and brushed aside her rebel locks.

"Did you need something?" Severus asked without looking at her, almost embarrassed by the mere idea.

"No. I just wanted to stay with you. After Transfiguration you just disappeared." She answered with a slightly humorous tone.

"Yes, well, not really wanted to be again Potter's clown." Severus said then, abruptly. But there was no anger in his voice this time, only a forsaken resignation. However, Lily's reaction was totally unexpected. The girl laughed, laughed heartily as if he had just told her a joke.

Severus looked away for a moment from the long list of ingredients of the potions book to bring his eyes on his friend, stunned.

"It's not funny." He said.

Lily looked at him, still laughing. She bit her lower lip in that gesture that was normal for her and he loved her when she did that, it made her look even more jaunty, even more beautiful.

She shook her head. She seemed very amused by the shocked and confused expression of the boy beside her. "What were you reading?" She asked him, breathing again.

"Potions." Severus said then, laconic and, however, happy that she had changed the subject.

"Again?" Lily's green eyes widened. "Sev, you probably know it by heart, that book."

Severus shrugged, indifferent. "So what? I have nothing else to do." He said flatly. Then he returned to lay his eyes on the printed words.

It was at that time, shortly after that his black eyes were placed on the pages of the book that that little white-winged creature, with all the space it had, had gone to rest right on his knee.

"Hey!" Severus exclaimed, seeing the white butterfly resting quietly on his trousers. He moved his hand with the intention to drive that little cheeky away, but, before he could do that, another hand closed on his.

"No, leave her." Lily said, her hand resting lightly on the boy's skinny one. Severus looked at her questioningly.

"Look, she likes you." Lily said again, looking at the butterfly waving her wings perfectly comfortable on Severus'bony knee.

"Yeah, wonderful. The friendship of a moth is all I needed." Severus said sarcastically, making what looked like a strange hybrid between a smile and a grimace.

Lily gave him a dirty look, she narrowed her beautiful green eyes wrapping their delicate irises in the shadow of the eyelids.

"You know, there's a Japanese legend about butterflies." Lily said then, looking at the small white butterfly still there, quiet, the wings slightly ruffled by the spring breeze.

Severus glanced quickly at the small insect and then he returned his blacks eyes on the girl. He said nothing and his silence encouraged Lily, who already feared to receive a sarcastic barb from her friend.

"I've read it by chance on a book in the library. It tell about a white butterfly, like that." She said nodding at the little creature.

Severus, again, did not answer. He was deep staring at the butterfly on his knees, thoughtfully. Who knows how long she would have lived? A life so short, yet so dense, so... normal. A simple life guided only by instinct, without care, without the fear of future and present, without having to suffer the mockery of people like Potter and Black, without being marginalized for being different.

"Sev?" Lily's voice brought him back from his thoughts. Although Lily hardly noticed she had been able to attract his attention, because Severus stared at the butterfly and the words that he told her seemed to come from a place far away from those meadows around the lake.

"What the legend says?" The boy asked, without even moving his eyes on Lily.

"It tells of an old man who had never married and lived in a house near a cemetery. But do not ask me his name because I don't remember." Lily began accompanying the latest phrase with a light laughter. She saw Severus nod and began again to tell: "One day he fell ill and knowing that he was dying he called his sister and nephew. The two remained with him for a few days, next to his bed. Then, one day, while the old man slept, they saw a white butterfly coming through the window and resting on the pillow. They tried several times to chase her away, but she always came back." Lily, sitting cross-legged, kept her eyes fixed on the ground and casually tore the grass with her clear fingers. And she was smiling as she told that story, and Severus had finally looked up at her, to drink every single word that flowed from her lips. It was nice to hear her speak.

"When the butterfly left the room again, the nephew followed her and saw her flying upon one of the graves, remember?, in the cemetery." Severus nodded slightly and Lily continued. "The butterfly flew for a while on the grave, then disappeared. The boy then reached the gravestone, and he noticed a white sheet on which was written... Akiko, I think the name was, but it doesn't matter. However, it was a girl who died when she was eighteen."

Lily turned to Severus and he smiled. The butterfly was still there, perfectly at ease as if she was interested in hearing the story too. Lily smiled amused, she really look as she was asking her to continue telling with those black antennae making up and down in the air. And Severus thought she enjoyed the sound of Lily's voice just like he did... really, Lily had a voice capable to fascinate even the butterflies. Was she herself a butterfly? As he thought of those things, Lily had already begun to talk.

"The boy went home," she was saying, "and told his mother what he had seen. Meanwhile, his uncle died. The mother told him that Akiko was the girl who had been loved by his uncle, but a few days before the wedding she had died of disease. Then his uncle had sworn that he would never marry and would live near her grave to take care of her. And he had always kept his promise. But in those days he had not been able to put flowers on her grave." She took a deep breath and looked up at the sky losing her green eyes in the blue sea. "So Akiko had come for him. The white butterfly was her soul." She finally concluded, lowering her head again and smiling at Severus. He found himself to smile back.

"It's a nice story." Severus commented in the end.

"It is, isn't it?" Lily said, still smiling. "Oh, look!" She exclaimed then. Severus brought his eyes quickly on his knee, where up to that moment there was the small white butterfly, just in time to see her fly gracefully, with a slight rustle of her wings of snow.

Severus saw her hovering in the draughts like a cherry petal, light. He saw her fly away along with that memory until both of them were swallowed by the black. And then, only then he realized that it was only a vision, just a figment of his mind and of the wings of a butterfly that had kidnapped him and brought him with them in a memory. Lily was gone. Lily had flown away like that butterfly. He himself had killed her, and forced her in a tomb like the girl of the story.

He opened his eyes slowly and saw with great amazement that the colourful butterfly was still there, on his knee, like the small white butterfly that had rested on him years before in the same point. He did not know why, but he found himself smiling. A genuine smile that rarely had touched his face.

And under the arch of his smile the sun-coloured butterfly flapped her wings a few times, waving her antennae as if to say something to him - a goodbye - then took off. Severus followed her with his eyes as the little creature hovered a few times around him, then, as she had arrived, bringing with her the memory, she vanished, leaving him alone under the big tree in the empty playground. He knew he did not deserve any forgiveness, any consolation, but the faint heat that had invaded his body, given him by the sparks of fire of the butterfly, was a strange feeling. A new feeling.

Severus felt again the tears pressing against his eyes, perhaps because of that lightness in his chest that was unknown to him, his dead heart for a moment replaced by the beating of the wings of that butterfly. A multicoloured butterfly... Lily...


End file.
